The Truth of the Matter
by Russet022
Summary: With a little prompting, Severus contemplates the past and the future. "Some things never change, indeed." And that's the truth of the matter. Rated for minor language.


Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to J. K. Rowling. I just wanted to try writing Snape's PoV for a change...

The Truth of the Matter

"An' that's how I made a fortune off've that ol' broomstick." Mundungus Fletcher finished a long, off-color story about one of his dodgy deals with a flourish. The thief picked up his goblet and took a deep draught.

Under cover of the Weasley boys' guffaws, Severus Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his rising frustration. He opened his eyes again, fixing his expression to reflect utter boredom, rather than the simmering ire he was barely keeping in check. Why on earth had Albus forced him to stay to dinner at Grimmauld Place? Surely the lot of them could entertain themselves. The Weasleys, Black, Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Fletcher didn't need or want Severus' presence. He hadn't said a word all night.

As Molly began to berate Fletcher for encouraging her lunatic twins, Lupin caught Severus' eye and grinned wryly, shaking his head slightly with an amusement that wasn't nearly as mild as it appeared to be. The werewolf's eyes gleamed with merriment. He seemed to be inviting Severus to share in the joke. Severus fought back the urge to roll his eyes and deliberately looked away. It wouldn't do to encourage Lupin. They were not friends; they never had been and they never would be.

But it seemed that Lupin wasn't going to be deterred by Severus' usual aloof countenance. As the Weasley boys began an argument about Quidditch, Lupin leaned forward just a little. "I heard that Dolores Umbridge was going to be the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher."

Severus glared at him. He didn't think much of Lupin's conversation starters. This hadn't even been a question.

"I would have thought that you would take the class this year, considering…" Lupin trailed off; his casual wave of a hand was apparently meant to finish the sentence. Snape's expression would have peeled paint, but the werewolf was unflappable. Mostly unflappable, Severus corrected himself with an inner wicked grin. Behind the affable half-smile, Lupin was as insecure as a teenager. Hence the werewolf's obvious discomfort at the attention Tonks paid him. Severus had no idea what the girl was thinking. There was nothing lovable about Lupin. And yet plenty of people liked him. Why couldn't Lupin make conversation with someone who actually cared? But it seemed that some type of response was expected.

"Considering what, Lupin?" Severus sneered. "The fact that I would be a safer choice than the Death Eater last year, that fraud Lockhart, or, oh, a werewolf?"

Lupin flinched slightly at Snape's pointed mention of his "affliction." He hid it well, but Severus survived by reading cues as short-lived as Lupin's obvious discomfort. The Potions Master snorted to himself. 'That should teach him to try to make conversation,' he thought. But Lupin wasn't finished.

"Yes," he said simply. "I would have thought that with the war beginning, you would be the best man for the job."

"Don't flatter yourself, Lupin. I know you dislike me," Severus said coldly.

Lupin sighed. "I never have, you know. I would have stopped my friends if I hadn't been such a bloody coward, afraid to lose what acceptance I had found. Funny, how the world works." Lupin's gaze was distant.

Severus pulled a skeptical expression as he tried to figure out why the werewolf was telling him this. Surely Lupin didn't think that Snape could forgive him for the stunt he and his friends had pulled all those years ago. But Lupin was still talking…

"Don't you find it odd, how something in the world always seems to know what you fear the most, and then throws that fear in your face? Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better to never care about anyone. If only because every friend I make I manage to lose." Lupin's voice was quiet, but intense.

To cover his surprise at this sudden openness, Severus stabbed at a piece of meat on his plate. He startled himself by answering. "It is better to not care. Nothing is worth a broken hear—"

He stopped, remembering where he was and who he was talking to. Lupin smiled understandingly. Severus shoved a forkful of stew into his mouth to stop himself from sticking his foot further in this mess. He felt oddly off-balance; for a moment, his irritable mask had fallen. He never wanted Lupin to look at him that way again. The werewolf could not possibly understand the inner workings of the life of Severus Snape. They were nothing alike.

"Then why," Lupin asked softly, "do they always say that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?"

"Because the world is full of sentimental fools like you," Severus snapped, finding firmer ground to stand on, if there was firmer ground to find in the bog of philosophical idiocy that Lupin apparently inhabited.

"Have you ever thought of letting go?" Lupin asked suddenly, adding complete non-sequitors to his growing list of conversational faux pas. Couldn't open with a question, possessed no subtlety…Did Lupin really think he was tactfully asking why Severus hated the world?

"Letting go of what?" Severus snarled. He had no idea where the werewolf was going with this, and it was making him edgy—edgier, though Severus would never admit it.

"Of the past," Lupin elaborated. "Letting go of the bitterness and the pain and just…starting over." Lupin waved his hand in apparent frustration at his inability to find a more fitting phrase.

Severus turned away for a long moment as the werewolf's words unleashed a torrent of images. He knew what Lupin meant, of course. The bitterness of losing all that one cared about—Severus had felt it as much as anyone. Twice. He'd lost her twice. No. Three times. The first when his foolish tongue had lashed out in anger and embarrassment, branding her in a way he had never meant to. The second when she had married Potter, of all people. She'd wanted to invite Severus to her wedding anyway, despite the rivalries, but he was well in over his head with the Dark Lord by that point. If it hadn't been for the Dark Lord, he might have forgiven her, in time. But she was gone, irrevocably beyond his grasp. And it was his fault.

The guilt washed over him again in a fresh wave, new as if she had died yesterday. He barely noticed that Lupin had given up hope of getting an answer and was carefully shredding a piece of potato with his fork. Perhaps he was embarrassed. Severus would have been, in the werewolf's position. That the other had had the gall to think that he could understand Severus' pain—that Severus could understand Lupin's pain…but that couldn't be right. Lupin wasn't stupid enough to think that Severus cared enough to try to understand him. That was what friends did. He grasped at this way to pawn the conversation off on someone else.

"Take your philosophy to Black, Lupin. What do I care for starting over?" Severus hissed. He continued in a mutter, "And a war is a bloody stupid time to contemplate the future…"

Lupin smiled. "I suppose some things never change." The werewolf was distracted as Black chose that moment to elevate an argument with Molly to a shouting match.

Severus stood up to leave. He was an adult; he could leave if he wanted. It was a sorry excuse for a dinner anyway. Nothing more than stew and pointless conversation—both of which amounted to about the same thing. It was a waste of valuable time.

"'Some things never change,' indeed," Severus muttered to himself as he pulled on his traveling cloak. He scowled at his reflection in the hall mirror on his way out the door. He would never admit it, but Lupin was absolutely right. Some things would always be the same, no matter how hard meddling fools like Albus tried to change them. No one could truly let go of the past. If one could—well, Severus and Lupin might have been friends; hell, Severus and Black might even have been friends. But they weren't, they wouldn't be, and they had never been. That was the truth of the matter.

Severus disapparated with a frustrated snap. Once back in his rooms he lost himself in the soothing calm that was potion making. And if he shed a few tears for his lost love, wishing desperately that he could change the past, he might also have admitted that he would never let go. Lupin was a fool to think that anyone could start over. And that, Severus was willing to admit, was the real truth of the matter.


End file.
